


No Fate But What You Make

by ardentaislinn



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, an accidentally swapped bags at the airport AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Fitz accidentally swap bags at the airport, and a series of mishaps prevent them from swapping back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fate But What You Make

**Author's Note:**

> Based on one of those lists of AU prompts that float around on tumblr.

Jemma Simmons did not believe in fate.

But on days like today, when everything possible was going wrong, she did wonder about karma and whether she had done something horrendous in a past life.

She bounced on her feet with impatience in the aisle of the airplane as the passengers filed out of the door with frustrating slowness. The plane had been delayed by over two hours, and now she was going to be late to her talk. She had planned it so that she would have enough time to check in and get changed before taking the stage, but she should have known that putting her trust in other people being on time never ended well.

Her nervous energy spilled over and Jemma stumbled into the man in front of her. She stepped back quickly, but he turned around in surprise. Their gazes met, and Jemma’s apology stuck in her throat. He was really cute. Not her usual type, which was tall and strapping, but definitely attractive in a nerdy and sweet kind of way.

He seemed equally unable to speak. He just kept looking at her as if in a daze. She was about to say something, introduce herself, when she saw movement over his shoulder.

“Er, sorry for bumping into you, but, er...” she told him, indicating the moving line ahead of him.

He blinked. “Oh,” he said in surprise and then spun around and hurried forward, dragging his black wheeled case behind him. She followed, pushing past him and everyone as soon as they were out on the walkway.

The man was forgotten by the time she had reached the baggage carousel. She was on a mission, determined to get to her destination on time. The instant she saw her red case she leapt forward and dragged it off the conveyor belt.

Jemma was in a taxi on her way to the hotel that was hosting the convention before she knew it. She took a moment to breathe deep and settle herself, before opening up the suitcase she had squeezed onto the seat next to her, intending at the very least to change her shirt.

It took a moment for her mind to process what it was seeing.

“Shit,” she whispered as she took in the masculine attire thrown haphazardly into the case and the large mechanical device that dominated the rest of the space.

This was very definitely not her suitcase.

Her heart fluttered in panic. Everything important was in her case. This was an utter disaster.

She scrabbled around quickly until she found the tag. Thankfully it had a mobile number on it, and she pulled out her phone and dialled it without thinking.

“Hello?” asked a curiously male voice with a Scottish accent. A welcome taste of home.

Jemma sighed in relief. “Hello. I’m terribly sorry, but I believe I’ve stolen your suitcase. Accidentally, I mean. It looks exactly like mine.”

“Ah, I’m glad you called. I’m still at the airport if you wanted to meet and swap back.”

“I would,” began Jemma regretfully. “But I’m due to give a talk at a conference in thirty minutes, and it will already take me thirty-five to get to the hotel if traffic is on my side. Do you need it right away?”

He thought for a moment. “No, that should be fine. We can meet up later. I don’t need my prototype until tomorrow.”

Jemma let out a breath. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re a hero.”

“It’s no problem,” he murmured bashfully, and Jemma was almost sure he was blushing. She grinned.

“There is one last thing…” she told him. “All my notes for my talk are in that bag. I usually keep them on my tablet, but I needed to be able to hand them over to the organisers at the end.”

“Ah, do you want me to bring them to you?”

“Oh, no I don’t want to inconvenience you. But if you could just take a photo of them and send them to me, that would be perfect.”

“No problem.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“You’ve got my number now?” she asked, uncharacteristically not nervous about a stranger having her number. Somehow she suspected this man wouldn’t abuse this situation,

“Yes.”

“Great.”

They paused for a moment. Jemma was about to say something else when the taxi stopped and she realised she was at the hotel.

“Thanks again. Bye.”

She accidentally cut him off halfway through his valediction but chose not to feel too bad. She quickly paid the cab driver and manoeuvred the case out of the back seat before striding into the hotel.

`

Jemma’s talk went surprisingly well, given that she was reading her notes on her tiny phone screen. Thankfully her partner in this unfortunate circumstance didn’t send her blurry pictures, and she’d had her USB with her slides on it stashed in her handbag. So, it went off without a hitch.

At one point she thought she’d seen the cute man from the plane in the audience. But when she looked again he’d disappeared, and Jemma supposed it was just her wishful imagination.

Now, she was in her hotel room, staring at the stranger’s case. She wondered what _he_ looked like. He had a nice voice, and his accent gave her a warm glow in her chest. She assumed he was young, given what he sounded like and that his tech skills seemed excellent. Other than that, all she knew was that he was really sweet and willing to go out of his way for her.

She picked up her phone and dialled.

“Hi, it’s Jemma. Your bag thief.”

“Hello, Jemma-the-bag-thief,” he said with what sounded like a smile. “I don’t think I introduced myself before. I’m Fitz.”

“Hi Fitz. The conference day is over. Did you want me to bring you your bag?”

“Um, actually, do you mind hanging on to it a little longer? Some of the lads are insisting I go out with them tonight. We are leaving now and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Jemma got the distinct impression that he wasn’t often invited out, since he sounded like he was trying to subdue his excitement. She felt oddly glad for this stranger.

“That’s fine. If you need your prototype tomorrow, I’ll drop it around in the morning?”

“That’s great. I’ll text you the details then. I gotta go.”

“Have fun,” she told him.

“Thanks.”

`

_Is it OK if I wear one of your t-shirts to bed?_ , she texted him later that evening, already curled up on the hotel bed in his 'What Would Tesla Do?' t-shirt.

_Yeah, any of them is fine_ , he replied seconds later. Maybe he was bored at the party.

_Thanks. I had a look at your designs and prototype_ , she told him and waited nervously.

_Yeah? What did you think?_

He didn’t seem mad. _I tweaked your formula a bit for the fluid. It should change its density and make the delivery simpler._ She sent him a photo of her notes to accompany it.

It took a while for him to reply, and Jemma honestly believed she’d pissed him off. _Wow, that’s perfect! Thanks so much!_ He wrote eventually. She grinned.

_I couldn't resist examining it. The mechanism is so clever._

_Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while._

_How's the party?_

He replied with a photo of a row of tequila shots. _Better go. Wish me luck!_

_Good luck! See you in the morning._

Jemma found some mouthwash in his toiletries bag and took a sip as she stood over the sink, inexplicably nervous about the next day. She liked this guy. Would he live up to the fantasy she couldn't help spinning about him? In her mind he was nerdy but handsome, and definitely age appropriate. He was obviously incredibly intelligent, based on his design, so that was a plus.

As she switched out the light for the evening, Jemma tried not to imagine too much about him. It would only lead to disappointment. But as she drifted off to sleep, a soft Scottish voice played through her mind.

`

The morning sun had just kissed Jemma’s face when her phone beeped. She blinked a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes before reaching over to grab it.

_I overslept! I hope your hotel isn't too far from mine. I need my case soon._

_I'm at The Grand on 4th._

There was a pause. _Oh. Me too. For the convention?_

_Yes. Room 243._

He didn’t reply. Jemma realised she was still in his t-shirt and began desperately hunting for a pair of shorts to pull on underneath. She found some, and was in the process of taming her hair when there was a knock at the door.

This was it. This was the moment when she would discover whether her secret wishes were just false hope or something close to the truth.

She eased the door open. There, in front of her, was the attractive man from the plane with adorable bed hair and his hand on her red suitcase.

She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

“Hi,” she said softly.

He grinned in return. His eyes softened as they fell to his t-shirt. “Looks good on you,” he told her, then ducked his head. She thought she saw his ears turn pink and felt butterflies shimmer in her stomach.

“Come in,” she offered.

Their arms brushed as he squeezed past her into the room and Jemma felt goosebumps rise on her skin. He stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, trying not to look too closely at anything.

Jemma took a deep breath and he turned to look at her.

“If you give me a minute to get changed, I think I probably owe you breakfast.”

His whole demeanour relaxed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

She grinned, so glad that her hopes had been exceeded by reality.

Maybe Jemma Simmons did believe in fate after all.


End file.
